


All I Want for Christmas (It's You, Stupid)

by vulcansmirk



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-04 04:00:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulcansmirk/pseuds/vulcansmirk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Living with Jim Kirk comes with a few strings attached. Neither Jim nor Spock acknowledges them, but they both know they're there. Shameless holiday fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Want for Christmas (It's You, Stupid)

Jim looked up as Spock shuffled through the door.

“What…” Spock began, uncharacteristically inarticulate. The wind whistled through the door, blowing in swirls of snow; Spock pushed it shut, plunging them into merciful silence. “What have you done to the living room?”

Jim grinned. “Hello to you, too,” he said. “Do you like my nest?”

“I think you have made an unholy mess of shared living space,” replied Spock, sidestepping the question.

Jim just laughed from the center of his puddle of blankets and pillows. His eyes sparkled with all the light they’d stolen from the sky, and his smile was wide and warm and genuine.

He reached for a mug sitting on the windowsill. “Hot chocolate?” he offered. Spock just sighed. He slipped off his snow-caked boots, careful not to shake snow on the bare floor, and placed them neatly beside the door. His coat and scarf took some time to unwind from his frame, but eventually those were hung on the coat rack, and Spock traipsed across the room in his thick wool socks, running his hands through his hair to shake out the snowflakes.

He sat quietly in a chair next to Jim’s nest, missing the fond look in Jim’s eye as he approached. Ensconced in his blankets, Jim sipped at his steaming mug and stared out the window, watching the snow drift down from inky, dusk-laden clouds. A comfortable silence filled the space between them.

“How’s your mom?” Jim asked, finally.

Spock relaxed some before he replied. “She is well,” he said. “She was happy to see me, and I her. Her gift went over well, by the way—thank you for the help.”

Jim smiled softly out at the snow. “No problem. I’m glad she liked it. And I’m glad you got to see her.” He glanced indecisively down into his mug. “I think… I think I might try and visit my mom. Tomorrow, maybe.”

Spock nodded. “You should. I am certain she would appreciate it.”

Fingers tapping the side of his mug, Jim looked up and met Spock’s eye. “I didn’t get her anything,” he admitted.

Spock met his gaze. “Considering the time that has passed since you last spoke, your presence will surely be enough.”

Jim blinked, then nodded. “You’re probably right,” he murmured. His eyes returned to the window.

A breath. Then Jim turned again to Spock, and smiled wide.

“C’mere,” he insisted, gesturing toward the pile of bedding in which he’d buried himself.

Spock just stared. “I am perfectly comfortable here,” he assured Jim.

Jim shook his head. “Nuh-uh, no way. Not allowed. It’s been snowing all day, and we’re well on our way to getting trapped in this house. You’re missing the _magic!”_

“That sounds rather less like magic and more like horror to me.”

“Nonsense,” chirped Jim. “Listen. I’m gonna get up and go make you a mug of this cocoa, which you are _going to drink,_ and when I get back you’re gonna join me in this nest, and we’re gonna watch the snow together and talk and get along like _proper roommates._ Deal?”

“I fail to see how this qualifies as a deal,” Spock protested. “The only person benefitting here is you.”

“Don’t make me turn down the thermostat and force you in here,” warned Jim.

Spock rolled his eyes. “I, too, am capable of comprehending the complex interface of the thermostat.”

“Then I’ll take a crowbar to the heater.”

Spock blanched. “That is simply unnecessary,” he said.

Jim beamed. “Back in three seconds!” And then he somehow disentangled himself from the nest and stumbled around the corner into the kitchen.

When Jim was out of sight, Spock allowed himself a small smile. It was more a quirk of the lips than anything; only someone who really knew Spock would have caught it. Jim would have.

Spock stared out into the darkening sky, and the featherlight precipitation drifting down from it. He watched snowflakes settle in drifts along the road, and he felt something settle in his chest.

Jim returned shortly, the promised mug of cocoa in hand. After a fair bit of bickering, he wrangled Spock into the nest with him, laughing at the incongruous sight of Spock draped in a poofy red down comforter. A kind of peace settled with the warmth across both their shoulders, and after a while, Jim smiled entirely too delicately at Spock and said, “Merry Christmas, Spock.”

Spock looked right back at him. “Merry Christmas, Jim,” he said. This time, he let Jim see his smile.


End file.
